


Of Tool Belts and Trees

by brianna441, oldtart1, The_Empress



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brianna441/pseuds/brianna441, https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldtart1/pseuds/oldtart1, https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Empress/pseuds/The_Empress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A week in the life of Sentinel and Guide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Tool Belts and Trees

 

## Of Tool Belts and Trees

by Refugees

They're not ours, although we wish they were.

Unable to make it to Gatecon, and with nowhere else to go, several fen met in O'Fallon, Missouri for RefugeeCon. This story is the result of the writer's workshop. Writer's include: Suze777@aol.com, BithoS1592@aol.com, HLEmpress1@aol.com, and jzitzka@charter.net . Feedback to any of the above is appreciated.

None. Just fun and romance.

* * *

Of Tool Belts and Trees

By Refugees

Saturday Morning...

The pile of blankets shifted, a moan issuing from the depths. A hand stretched across the king size bed, searching, but finally stilled, obviously unable to locate what it sought.

"Jim?"

A tousled head appeared, the normally clear blue eyes red-rimmed and bleary.

"Jim?" he called plaintively. Silence reigned. Blair began to mutter. "It's friggin' Saturday and he's already out." he complained, throwing back the covers. "Gee, could he possibly be at Home Depot?" sarcasm dripping from each word. Blair pulled on his boxers and proceeded to stomp loudly down the stairs, head down, hands raking through his hair, curls exploding wildly.

Heeding an urgent call of nature, Blair approached the bathroom, head still down. Suddenly his foot hit something hard. Something that didn't belong outside the bathroom door.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!!!" The injured man hopped around the kitchen, holding his throbbing foot. "What the FUCK was that?" he growled. Finally opening his eyes to take in his surroundings, Blair saw pipes, including the one that had found his foot, a sink and various tools and other hardware on a dropcloth outside the bathroom door.

"Oh, man!" Blair wailed. "He's doing the vanity at this hour?" He leaned against the counter, rubbing his foot, cursing his lover. "I had to fall in love with Mr. Fucking Tool Time," he continued crossly.

The throbbing in his bladder soon distracted him from the throbbing in his foot, and Blair proceeded to weave his way through the detrius of Jim's project. Moving gingerly, he finally stood before the toilet, hand in his shorts when he noticed the bowl was completely empty. He stared, realizing Jim had turned off all the water to the loft.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!!!" Blair cursed, stomping carefully out of the bathroom. "And where am I supposed to take a piss, Mr. Fix It?"

The front door opened, and Jim walked in, smiling, pipe in hand. "Hey," he said, turning to place his keys in the basket. "You're up early."

Blair fumed. His lover had absolutely no idea that he was about to encounter the Wrath of the Pissed Off Guide. Jim turned around and finally looked at the frazzled anthropologist.

"What happened to you?" Jim asked, walking past Blair on his way to the dismantled bathroom. A hand shot out across his chest, stopping his forward motion.

"I can't take a piss, Jim."

"You really should see a doctor about that, Chief." Jim quipped, moving around the impeding hand. Blair grabbed the back of his t-shirt. Jim turned around, realizing his Guide was truly ticked. He took in the image of flying hair, boxers askew, bleary blue eyes.

Blair never looked cuter.

"You're a dead man, Ellison." Blair said quietly, beginning to move towards the stairs, bitching under his breath the whole way. Jim easily caught the phrases "no consideration for others", "block-headed handy man", "Neanderthal with a wrench"...

"Chief," Jim began to explain, watching as his lover disappeared from the top of the stairs. "You're hardly ever up at 7:30 on a Saturday morning. I thought I'd have this done before you got up but the trap I bought didn't fit and I had to run to..." Jim was interrupted by a voice from above.

"Home Depot" intoned the sarcastic retort. "The mecca of macho, anally retentive, alpha male, Bob Vila wannabes. Where, on Saturday mornings they gather at the hallowed temple of socket wrenches and jigsaws, worshipping in tool belts and overalls."

"Jeez, Sandburg, tell me what you really think," Jim muttered under his breath, moving towards his project, knowing the tirade was likely to continue without his participation.

"The one Saturday morning I have to be at the U., preferably showered, and you take apart the bathroom. It's not like I didn't tell you I had to meet with Professor Mitchell. But do you listen? Noooooo. Just the thought of Home Depot and every last brain cell takes a vacation." Blair came quickly down the stairs, dressed in ratty jeans and flannel shirt, carrying a pile of clothes. "Now I have to use the gym to shower and you know I hate the way that place smells..."

Blair's voice broke off, as he took in the vision before him. Jim had indeed returned to work and was currently bending over, giving his interested lover an eyeful of straining thready denim, a gap of flesh showing through the tear placed strategically south of his firm, rounded cheeks. As Jim stood up, Blair noticed the muscles in his magnificent back outlined by the clinging gray t-shirt.

Jim realized that his guide had stopped ranting. He turned around to see Blair staring at him, seemingly in a zone. Jim flushed, recognizing the look, his body tightening in response. Their eyes met, and Blair shook himself, not quite finished vocalizing his displeasure.

"And don't tell me you didn't wear that outfit to distract me," the smaller man continued crossly. "You think all you have to do is traipse around looking like everyone's fantasy handyman and I'll excuse you anything. And I still have to take a piss!" He turned and headed for the front door. "You better have that bathroom in one piece by the time I get back or I may have to move into my office. It'll get mighty lonely around here with just your big honkin' screwdriver for company."

Blair's hand was on the doorknob when Jim said quietly, "I love you." Blair stopped short and muttered, "I love you too, asshole" and slammed the door behind him. Jim smiled and returned to work.

Saturday Afternoon...

The Volvo moved through traffic, Blair replaying the morning over in his mind. Once showered, he'd met with Professor Mitchell. The tenured Anthropologist was preparing to leave on a year-long expedition and he had arranged for Blair to take over his classes. Honored by the request, Blair was shocked when the Professor had also entrusted him with his prized possession...his bonsai.

The miniature tree, now carefully ensconced in his trunk, was going through a transition. Dr. Mitchell had admitted that, due to the preparations for his trip, he had neglected to give the delicate shrub the care it deserved. Looking more like a dead branch peppered with a random leaf or two, the Professor assured Blair that, under his tender, loving care, he was sure the bonsai would flourish.

Blair bubbled with excitement. To have a teacher of such renown, a man he admired, trust him with not only his students but this valuable plant... Blair couldn't put his feelings into words.

Making a mental list of the plant's requirements, Blair pulled into the empty parking space outside the loft. As he climbed out of the car, he was surprised to see Jim come rushing out of the glass door, agitated.

"Where have you been?" the larger man asked. Snagging Blair's arm as he moved toward the truck, Jim continued. "It's after two o'clock. You know we have food shopping to do."

"Sorry, Jim. I lost track of time. I..."

"That's why we have a schedule, Chief," Jim lectured, climbing into the truck. "You make a plan and stick to it or nothing'll ever get accomplished." He checked to make sure Blair's seatbelt was buckled as he started the truck. "Saturday afternoon at two o'clock is food shopping. The mothers with kids are already finished and older folks don't come in until later in the day. Two o'clock is the perfect time."

Blair sat, staring out the window, watching the passing scenery. "God save me from a Sentinel with a schedule." he murmured.

"I heard that." Jim said, a warning in his voice.

'I know.' Blair thought as he smiled.

* * *

Jim grabbed a cart as he entered the supermarket, his over-animated Guide close behind him.

"...then the male, or bull, rolls onto his back and extends his penis, and man, this thing is HUGE..."

"You know, Darwin, if I had known mentioning the Discovery Channel was going to get me a 20 minute dissertation on the mating rituals of the Pacific Blue Whale, I would have picked a different subject." Jim smiled at his lover's momentary confusion. "Produce aisle?" he said pointing behind the younger man

Blair looked around, as if just noticing his surroundings. "Produce? ...Oh, right. Yeah."

* * *

"Smell this for me, Jim" Blair said, thrusting the grapefruit at his partner.

"Jeez, Sandburg, it smells like a grapefruit."

"No, I meant is it ripe enough?"

"What do I look like, a fruit detector?" Jim complained.

Blair took back the fruit and smiled. "Well, you detected me."

* * *

"I hate brussels sprouts."

"You'll like mine," Blair said, adding more sprouts to the bag.

"Chief, I really hate brussels sprouts." Jim knew his voice was approaching a whine, but couldn't help it. "They'll stink up the whole place and I'll be gagging for a week."

"Not the way I cook them." Blair finished loading the plastic bag and placed it in the cart.

"Sandburg"

"Jim, did I mention that a certain bakery item might be obtainable by a certain Sentinel if he eats his sprouts?"

"Well, I suppose I could give them a try." Jim conceded, moving the cart quickly towards the department in question before Blair changed his mind.

Heading directly for the freshly baked items, Jim picked up two clear plastic packages of chocolate chunk cookies.

"One" Blair said, inspecting the French bread, his back towards Jim.

Jim quickly put back one package, muttering "I was just looking for the best one." As he turned to place the cookies in the cart, he was distracted by an enticing odor. Drifting towards another rack, Jim found a lone box of glazed buttermilk donuts.

"Blair?"

"Donuts, Jim? Top of the cop food groups." Blair teased. "Now you know they're nothing but fat and sugar. And you usually get them at the donut shop. What are you going to do with those?"

"We could freeze them." Jim suggested, picking up the box.

Blair started laughing and moved quickly to take the box from Jim. "Who are you kidding, man? Like they'd ever make it to the freezer."

"I love you, sweetheart"

"I love you too, Jim," Blair smiled, patting his lover's cheek. "But you're still not getting the donuts."

* * *

As Jim moved up the pasta aisle, Blair returned from his latest forage and dropped several boxes into the cart, then turned to inspect a package of noodles.

Jim cleared his throat. "Oh, Sandburg?"

"Yeah, Jim?"

The detective reached into the cart and pulled out a box that just happened to have fallen to the bottom. "What are these?"

Blair looked over his shoulder then quickly turned back to his noodle inspection. "Pop Tarts," he answered softly.

"Pop Tarts?" Jim replied. "Seems like there might be fat and sugar in these, dontcha think, Chief?"

His younger partner turned around, stuffing a box into the cart, not meeting the Sentinel's eyes. "They're not for me, Jim. I keep them in my office in case someone needs a snack. You know how students are, never eating enough. One of them might have a hypoglycemic episode, and if I didn't have the Pop Tarts, then where would I be? At the infirmary? Jeez, Jim if I was at the infirmary all the time, I would never get anything done..."

"Sandburg" Jim interrupted, halting the flow of words.

"Yeah, Jim"

"Dish out that line to someone who can't smell the bullshit a mile away." Blair stared up at him with those big blue eyes. Jim continued, knowing he couldn't resist that look. "You can have the Pop Tarts, just don't give me crap about the donuts next time, OK?

* * *

Jim moved the cart quickly past the end of the aisle containing the shampoo and toiletry items

"I'll meet you in cereals" he called back as his partner made the detour down what Jim referred to as the "aisle of odors". All it took was one migraine, and he avoided it like the plague, leaving that part of the shopping expedition to his roommate.

Moving like a man on a mission with a limited window of opportunity, Jim surveyed the shelves, quickly picking up his target and carefully burying it in the cart, covering it with a camouflage of ground turkey meat. He heard Blair rounding the corner and stood, inspecting a shelf of healthy cereals.

"Get everything you need?" he asked, moving the cart so his partner could drop in his latest load. Jim watched with dismay as Blair immediately honed in on the ground turkey, reaching beneath it to unearth the booty.

As he watched his prize returned to the shelf, Jim colored as he clearly heard Blair snickering. "Not the Count Chocula again." The smaller man moved next to his partner, giving him a quick surreptitious hug. "I love it that you try, Jim. Really, I do. But Count Chocula?"

"Fruit Loops?"

"No"

"Frosted Flakes?"

"No"

"Captain Crunch?"

"You have got to be kidding me, man," Blair teased, shaking his head. "It's like shopping with a five year old."

"What then?" Jim asked, obviously irritated.

"Oatmeal" Blair answered.

"Oatmeal?!?!" Jim squawked.

"Just kidding!" Blair said, laughing as he dodged quickly down the aisle, avoiding the attacking cart like a man with much experience at the task.

* * *

"Paper or plastic?" the voice chirped.

Blair turned to his partner, "Jim, where are the canvas bags?"

"I left them in the truck," Jim replied. "Just this once can't we use their bags? They're all biodegradable."

"Jim, you know how I feel about this. They say they're biodegradable, but are they really? A thousand years from now they could still be pulling them from the landfills. I don't think we should be willing to take that chance. Do you?"

His hands held up in surrender, Jim headed for the parking lot, "I'm going, I'm going..."

* * *

With well-orchestrated movements, the men efficiently unpacked and put away the groceries.

"Man, I have got to wash my hair," Blair complained, scratching his head. "That shower at the gym has the most disgusting shampoo. My hair is frazzled."

"And we can tell the difference how...?" Jim teased, moving the paper bag of Chinese food to the table.

"Funny, Jim." Blair groused. "It's all dry and coarse. I bought some oil stuff at the store that I'm going to try."

"Well, let's eat first," Jim suggested. "Then you can shower and we can veg out on the couch after."

As he turned from getting the plates, Jim felt his lover's arms wrap around him. He returned the hug gently, placing the plates on the counter. Now free to reciprocate fully, Jim squeezed the smaller man's body closer to his, nuzzling his neck.

"Yeah, I see what you mean about the hair," Jim lifted his head and commented. "It stinks."

Blair pushed away, laughing. "You jerk. You're such a romantic. No wonder you were such a lady killer."

Jim grabbed the plates and handed them to his partner. "Set the table, Chief. The sooner we eat, the sooner we can get the hair back to normal." As Blair turned to the task, Jim grabbed him from behind and gave him a quick squeeze. "You know I love your hair, Sandburg."

Blair danced away, eyes twinkling. "Sometimes I think you're in love with my hair, not me. Better watch yourself, or no comb out for you."

* * *

Saturday Night ...

Clad only in his boxers, Blair left the steamy bathroom, towel drying his hair. As he moved towards the living room, he saw that the lights had been dimmed, two candles burning on the mantle. He saw his lover sitting on the sofa, comb and detangler set on the end table. Jim turned as Blair approached.

"You are such a slut for my hair," Blair teased, moving over to the couch. He sat where Jim indicated, on the floor in front of the larger man, snuggled between well-muscled legs. Immediately Sentinel hands began to gently tousle his curls, separating the strands with his fingers.

Jim leaned down and took a deep breath, making an appreciative sound. "What is that scent?" he asked, murmuring softly. "And your hair is like silk."

Blair sighed as his lover's hands began to massage his scalp. "It's the hot oil treatment. Chamomile and something...I can't remember...Oh, man, this is incredible..." The words trailed away leaving only soft moans in their place.

Once the younger man was limp from the scalp massage, Jim sprayed the hair with the detangler. He then took the wide toothed comb and drew it gently through the luxurious curls. Blair's head continued to droop as the comb rhythmically passed through his tresses.

When he was satisfied that his lover's hair was tangle free and starting to dry, Jim put down the comb. Returning to his task, he used his large hands to pull back the mane, leaving delicate ears exposed. The freshly washed head fell back as Jim's fingers began to trace the whorls of both ears with exquisitely sensitive fingertips. Around and around, the fingers traced until the each ear flushed at the tip. Blair began to moan again, and opened his half-lidded eyes, gazing up at his lover.

"Speaking of being a slut," Jim said quietly, cupping the beloved face. "Play with your ears, and you'll follow me anywhere."

Blair shifted around to face his lover, kneeling between Jim's thighs, his body pressed close, making his arousal evident. He leaned his forehead against Jim's and looked deeply into his eyes.

"And what do I have to play with to get you to follow me upstairs?" Blair asked with a soft smile.

Jim rose slowly, pulling his lover into an embrace. "Let me show you," he whispered, nibbling a sensitized ear. Moaning slightly, Blair raced for the steps, tugging Jim behind.

They made it to the top of the stairs before Jim pulled his young lover into his arms, mating their lips in a kiss. Blair opened up against him, savoring the taste, the textures that were completely Jim.

"Jim" came the sound, part moan, part whisper.

Pulling back, Jim's eyes took in one of his favorite sights...Blair, blue eyes clouded with passion, skin flush with desire, lips moist, waiting, wanting more.

Fingers, trembling slightly, began working the buttons of his shirt. Covering the smaller hands in his, Jim whispered softly, "I'll do it." As he began to divest himself of his clothing, he watched Blair watching him, the younger man's breath quickening at each opened button, his heart rate increasing with each newly revealed patch of flesh.

"Take it easy, Chief," he murmured, reaching out his fingers to gently caress a cheek. "We don't want this to be over before we're even started."

Blair stepped closer, reverently placing his hands on the smooth expanse of chest "You are beautiful, man. I want you so much"

Gently nudging his chin, Jim angled the smaller man's face, forcing their eyes to meet. "Naked and in bed. Now, Sandburg."

A brilliant smile lighting up his face, Blair burst into action and, before Jim's clothes had hit the floor, Blair was stretched out on the bed, naked and erect, like an offering to the gods.

With a groan of surrender, Jim launched himself, pouncing onto the bed. In the same motion, his arms wrapped around the smaller man until, with a final twist, he settled on his back, Blair straddling his waist, their lips again joined in passion. Gentling, the deep, wet kiss slowly eased to become small licks and nips. Blair peppered little damp butterfly kisses all over Jim's face before starting downward, trailing across the beard line on the underside of his lover's chin. Stopping only to suckle briefly on the larger man's Adam's apple, he then proceeded to make a beeline across a firm pec to one nipple, already peaked with arousal.

Jim had to adjust his dial for touch down just a notch to keep from losing it right then and there. The sensation of Blair's hair dragging and tickling across his heated skin was almost too much. "Blair," he moaned, "oh Christ Chief, your hair is driving me crazy."

Blair sat back, taking a break from the feast he was making of Jim's body. "So," he hissed, the evil little grin making him look even more erotic to his lover. "it's true, you do only love me for my hair. Well, I guess I'll have to indulge this little fetish of yours, Ellison."

This drew a groan from the Sentinel. He was in for it now....

Blair shifted back slightly, drawing another moan from his lover. Leaning forward the long-haired man began to trail the tips of those curly tresses across the smooth skin trapped beneath him. His hands pinned to his sides, the buff cop could not control his devious lover's movements at all. He was forced to lie there and be reduced to a quivering mass of aroused nerve endings.

Always sensitive to his lover's needs, Blair trailed his hair across the expanse of chest and stomach, but avoided moving lower. He knew the limits of his Sentinel's control. Before he could begin a return path back towards his lover's face, Jim moaned "Oh, Babe...stop....I...I have to touch you....I NEED to touch you."

Smiling warmly, he released Jim's hands, which swept immediately up Blair's arms. Trailing fingertips across the shoulders, Jim buried them in the springy curls that peppered the chest before him. He felt, more than heard, the soft rumble of laughter and looked up, into sparkling, dancing eyes.

"Man, you really DO have a thing for my hair."

Blushing slightly, Jim reached up, pulling the younger man closer, again capturing his lips. When his other hand gently squeezed the column of flesh trapped between them, Blair gasped.

"I need you, love...now." Jim whispered and Blair could only nod. He leaned in for another kiss as his hand reached for the nightstand. Finding the gel, he applied it to his fingers then, reaching behind him, coated his lover's cock, his other hand teasing at Jim's erect nipple.

Raising up, Blair edged backward, positioning himself. But strong hands on his hips stopped him.

"Wait, sweetheart. You're not ready."

Blair smiled, running his fingers down Jim's chest. "I am sooo ready, babe. Here...help me."

As Jim gripped his cock, Blair gently lowered himself onto the pulsing shaft, his eyes drifting closed at the sensation. Finally, he felt the soft, springy texture of curls and he sighed. Opening his eyes, he glanced at Jim and his heart was captured by the love shining in the deep passionate blue. A calming breath and Blair began to move, a slow, undulating motion that was mirrored by the lover beneath him. Their eyes still locked together, Blair felt the Sentinel soft touch on his hair, fingertips ghosting around his ears, caressing his face.

As the teasingly tender fingers moved across his lips, Blair moaned and, with no other warning, came, his passion cascading between them.

Jim felt his lover's body tense around him and, with his own wordless cry, followed Blair into completion, two bodies frozen in passion until, finally both collapsed into a boneless mass on the bed.

Moments passed in near silence, only ragged breaths filling the air.

"I don't think I can move," Jim said weakly

"I know what you mean, man." Blair sighed. "All I know is I'm definitely using that hot oil treatment again."

* * *

Sunday Morning...

Jim climbed the stairs to the bedroom barely making a sound. After yesterday morning's fiasco, he definitely did not want to wake his sleeping lover. He just needed to grab a change of clothes and then he was off to shower. He intended to wake Blair with the aroma of coffee and cinnamon rolls, preferably served in bed. Jim knew he had gone a long way towards making up for the bathroom incident last night, but his Guide deserved every little bit of extra TLC that the Sentinel could provide.

Moving quietly to the dresser, Jim quickly shucked his sweaty t-shirt, then opened the drawer. He was startled by a husky voice.

"Stop right there and don't turn around." Jim froze, surprised that Blair was awake. "Bend over and pick up that t-shirt...slowly."

The larger man obeyed, smiling to himself. He loved when his partner was in this mood. He made a show of bending, picking up the sweaty t-shirt, then standing upright again, stretching his arms overhead. Jim began to harden as he heard the sound of a quickened heartbeat and heavier breathing.

"You may turn around now."

Jim turned slowly, gasping softly at the vision before him. Blair had thrown back the covers and was lying in the center of bed, wearing only boxers, looking sleep flushed.

"Bring it over here," the husky voice demanded and again, Jim obeyed. Blair sat up on the side of the bed as his lover approached and reached out to take the sweaty shirt, eyes never straying from the magnificent chest before him. He sniffed deeply, then tossed the shirt to the floor. Reaching out he grabbed the waistband of Jim's jeans, dragging him even closer. The straining bulge now at eye level, the smaller man trailed his fingers down the fly of the jeans, drawing a groan from his lover.

"Blair, I'm all dirty," Jim protested weakly.

Blair looked up with eyes dilated from arousal. "I like you dirty," he said, voice still husky and deep. Jim closed his eyes and arched his head back, groaning, as his lover palmed the front of his jeans.

"Jesus, Chief," he moaned. "You're killing me here."

Blair smiled and sat back. "Take them off," he instructed. Jim quickly unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans, pushing them down as fast as he could without hurting himself.

Blair's eyes gleamed. "Going commando there, Big Guy?" he teased. At Jim's slight blush, the smaller man smiled and grabbed Jim's hips, pulling him closer. He leaned in and took a deep breath, letting it out with a slight shudder. "You are so sexy when you're like this; sweaty with a smear of grease on your nose."

Self consciously, Jim reached up to swipe at his nose. "Don't." Blair commanded. "Leave it. You're my handyman and as lord of the manor I plan to take advantage of you." The younger man grabbed the imposing shaft and slowly drew his fingers up it's length, drawing a surprised gasp from above. He drew the shaft to his mouth and lightly kissed the tip.

"Please, Sir, please," Jim begged, reaching out to grasp his lover's head, hands again finding purchase in those luxurious curls.

"Ah, ah, ah," Blair said, pulling back. "You're not allowed to touch your betters." Jim groaned and drew back his hands. "Very good," the smaller man praised. He knew the Sentinel could not hold on much longer, the shaft in his hand straining and weeping. In one swift move, Blair swallowed the head and used his hands to create more friction, moving up and down the rod quickly.

Jim's hands were clasped behind his back, the temptation to grab his lover's head almost too much to bear. Suddenly he stiffened and moaned, back arching as he emptied himself into his lover's mouth. Blair continued stroking softly, then pulled back, looking up at the larger man.

"Blair, I can't..." Jim said, swaying as his hands reached out for balance. Blair knew his lover's knees were giving out and took pity on him. He turned Jim and pulled him down to the bed, smiling gently as his big strong lover flopped gracelessly back against the sheets. He quickly straddled the larger man, then lay down on top of him, head resting on the sweaty shoulder. Jim's arms came up and wrapped around his Guide and held him close.

Finally regaining his breath, Jim realized that Blair was already soft. "Did you...?" he asked softly. He could feel the cheek lying against him heat as it flushed.

"Yes, when you did," his lover said coyly. "You got me so hot, I couldn't help it. You play the handyman so well." Jim chuckled as Blair continued. "Not that I'm complaining mind you, but what were you doing at this hour to get so dirty? Please tell me not another project."

Jim hugged Blair and sighed contentedly. "I changed the oil in the Volvo and then cleaned it out for you, love."

Blair smiled, feeling cherished. "You are so good to me."

"Just doin' my job, Sir," Jim replied, smiling as Blair laughed. "I cleaned out your car and threw out the junk. Why you carry all that stuff around, I'll never know. You even had a dead tree in the trunk." Jim frowned as he felt his partner stiffen.

"Dead tree?" Blair squeaked. "Please tell me you didn't throw it away."

"Well, yeah..." Jim replied, somehow guessing that he'd screwed up again. He didn't have to wonder much longer, grunting as Blair launched himself off of his lover and out of the bed. Jim sat up and stared as his partner hopped around, pulling on the first thing he could find, a ratty pair of sweatpants.

"The bonsai...oh, no...please let it be OK...Professor Mitchell will kill me..." And before Jim could ask any questions, Blair was down the stairs like a shot and slamming out of the loft.

The larger man dropped back on the bed, his arm draped across his face. He groaned softly, "Why do I know this is going to be worse than the bathroom thing?"

Sunday Afternoon...

"Chief, can you move that thing so we can eat dinner?"

"It's not a thing," Blair said, a touch of impatience coloring his voice. "I told you it's a bonsai."

Jim rolled his eyes, waiting for a repeat of the lecture he had heard at various times during the day, ever since Blair had returned to the loft cradling his precious cargo.

Blair continued, "It's a 50 year old, living work of art. This Japanese elm belonged to Professor Mitchell's father, who cared for it like another child."

"But it looks like it's dead, Sandburg"

"If I hadn't dug it out of the trash, it would have been." Blair stated accusingly.

Jim sighed heavily, "Fine. But can we at least put is some place else so we can eat?"

Wordlessly, Blair picked up the tree, hugging it to him and moved to place it gently on the coffee table. Jim considered making a comment about blocking the view of the TV but thought better of it. No need to further irritate the already hyper anthropologist.

* * *

Late Monday Afternoon...

Jim climbed into the truck, smiling at the already running dialogue. He wondered if his partner continued talking to himself when there was no one to listen.

"I really appreciate you letting me borrow the truck, Jim," Blair said, reaching over to give the larger man a squeeze on the thigh in greeting. "I think I got everything I need for the bonsai." Jim wisely kept silent. "I had to spend some time on the laptop doing research, but it'll all be worth it. When Professor Mitchell gets back, he is going to be surprised at how well it's doing. See, part of the problem was he had been a little neglectful and that showed. The bonsai is going through a transition, but hopefully it will flourish with a little tender loving care."

"Well you're just the man for the job, Chief," Jim said, sneaking a quick kiss on his lover's cheek at a stoplight. He sat back, actually enjoying being in the passenger seat after the tiresome day he'd had. But his peace was only momentary. He could feel his eyes begin to water and realized there was an odor permeating the cab.

Mistakenly, he took a deep breath. "What is that smell, Sandburg?" Jim asked, coughing harshly.

Blair looked over at his partner with concern. "What smell?"

Jim concentrated, barely stopping himself from gagging, as he tried to catalog the scent. "Shit"

"What's the matter?" Blair asked.

"No, that's what I smell," Jim explained. "Shit"

"Oh, man," Blair said softly. "That's the fertilizer for the bonsai. I didn't think you'd be able to smell it."

Jim opened the window and tried to breathe only the incoming air. "Well, I can, and it stinks!"

"I'm sorry, Jim, really," the smaller man apologized, looking over at his partner.

"Well, you're going to have to take the truck in to be cleaned after you drop me off, Sandburg. No way I'm going to be able to drive it until it's deodorized."

They drove for a few miles in silence, with Blair continually glancing over in concern. Finally he began to chuckle.

"What?" Jim asked, annoyed.

"You look like a golden retriever sticking his nose out the window." Blair said, now laughing, unable to contain his mirth. Jim couldn't stay angry, as he listened to his partner giggle. He realized how ludicrous he must look.

//Is this what love is?// he wondered, joining in his partner's laughter, taking a deeper breath of the fresh air.

* * *

Tuesday Afternoon...

"... I can still smell it in the cab, and probably will for weeks," Jim complained. Simon drove towards the station, listening to the litany of complaints from his best detective, and friend. "That goddamned tree is driving me crazy. He's finally got it outside because, apparently, it needs fresh air," Jim said sarcastically, "and food, and special water, and all kinds of shit, literally. It's like we adopted a kid, but I'll tell you, Simon, it's a damn ugly one."

Simon laughed. "At least it doesn't keep you up all night."

"Oh, you don't think so?" Jim replied. "He's checking on it every few hours. Worried something will happen to it. And when he's awake, I'm awake."

"Which can have side benefits, I bet," Simon teased. "It's been so long, I'm not sure I remember what those benefits might be."

Jim smiled at his friend, then laughed. "I've been in the doghouse a lot lately, but I can't say he makes me suffer for it. God help me the day he decides he's going to withhold sex when he's pissed off at me."

"Hey, the kid loses his temper, but then it's over," Simon commented.

"True," Jim replied. "Plus he's a horny little bugger..."

Simon interrupted, laughing. "Too much info, there Jim. You know, you are one lucky bastard and you sit here whining like a schoolgirl. Appreciate what you have: a young, caring partner who loves you so much it almost hurts to watch. Now let's get back to my office before we're late for the conference call. I'm not going to have to worry about my waistline if we keep missing lunch like this."

When they reached Major Crimes, the two men moved swiftly towards Simon's office. On the way past his desk, Jim stopped, Simon right behind him. Both men could smell the heady aroma of pastrami. There on the deskpad was a wrapped sandwich and a note. Jim picked it up and read: "Sorry I missed you. I knew you had a busy day and you need to eat. So eat. Love, B."

Simon clapped his hand on Jim's back. "Yep, one lucky sonofabitch. Bring that with you, and you had better plan on sharing."

* * *

Wednesday Night...

Jim entered the loft, removed his coat and flung his keys in the basket by the door. As he turned, he was met by a bundle of energy and flying auburn curls that he quickly wrapped in his arms. First a tight hug, then their lips met in a kiss of greeting that showed signs of developing further, until Blair pulled back slightly then rested his head on his lover's chest, sighing as Jim began to nuzzle his neck.

"Missed you," Blair said softly.

"Missed you, too," Jim replied, tightening his embrace.

"You need to let me go," the smaller man said.

"I do, huh?" Jim asked.

"Well, yeah, if you want to eat tonight." Jim took a breath as if to reply. "Don't go there, man," Blair continued, laughing. "I mean dinner. The pasta is already on."

Jim reluctantly let his lover go and followed him into the kitchen area. Getting his hand slapped with the wooden spoon after trying to sneak a taste of the sauce, he retreated to the other side of the island. Seeing a bottle that no label, Jim picked it up and opened it, taking a sniff to see what it was. He immediately began coughing and choking and barely managed to set the bottle down before running for the bathroom. He stood over the toilet gagging when he felt a hand rubbing his back.

Finally, the storm passed, and Jim sat on the toilet seat as Blair ran a cool washcloth over his reddened face.

"What was in that bottle, Sandburg?" Jim asked, his voice cracking.

"Fish emulsion," his partner answered quietly, not quite meeting his eyes.

"And why is there fish emulsion in the kitchen?" Jim asked, then answered his own question. "No, don't tell me. The tree, right?" Blair nodded, head still down. The larger man sighed then pulled his lover close, wrapping his arms around Blair and resting his head on his stomach. Blair returned the embrace, lying his head on Jim's.

"I'm sorry," Blair said softly.

Jim sighed. "It's not your fault, Chief. I shouldn't have opened the bottle in the first place. My mistake."

"You hate the bonsai," the smaller man said sadly.

"I don't hate the tree...bonsai," Jim corrected himself, then continued in a very soft voice. "I think I'm a bit jealous."

Blair pulled back, surprise written all over his face. "Jealous?" he squeaked. "Of the bonsai?" Jim nodded sheepishly. Leaning down, he placed tiny kisses all over the blushing detective's face. "The bonsai is an obligation, sort of a project."

"So I'm not an obligation?" Jim asked. "After all, I started out as a project, too."

Blair cupped the larger man's face in his hands. "You are everything to me. I love you with all my heart. You are my soul."

Jim stared into his lover's eyes, moved by the words. Uncomfortable with the intensity of the emotions with which he was faced, the Sentinel joked "At least I get pastrami rather than that stinky green stuff." He hugged his laughing partner close.

* * *

Thursday Night...

"Are you sure you know where this place is, Sandburg?" Jim asked with annoyance.

"Just take a right at the stop sign," Blair replied. "Of course I know where it is, man, what do you think?"

"Never ask a question that you don't want the answer to," came the dry retort.

"Always the comedy man," he sighed, then his voice rose "Take a left here, Jim, get over in that lane quick!"

"Shit!" Jim yelped, swiftly cutting across two lanes of traffic. "You're going to get us killed."

"I told you I would drive."

"Twice in one week is just too much for my nerves, Chief," Jim looked over, a smile taking the sting from his words. He turned back to the road, seeing they were about to join a long line of traffic. "We're getting close to the arena and there's a game tonight. Bright idea, Einstein. You know any restaurant over here is going to be packed on game night"

"You know, Jim, you are such a grouch," Blair retorted. "Look, there's a car pulling out...take that space."

Jim did as instructed then parallel parked with ease. The two men exited the truck, meeting on the sidewalk. "So, Tonto, where is this fantastic restaurant you've been raving about?" he asked, scanning the area.

"Just follow me," Blair instructed, moving briskly away from the truck. "Hurry up, or we'll be late."

"Late? We have reservations?" Jim asked with surprise. "I thought you just found out about this place this afternoon?" With a groan of resignation, he continued "Please tell me this isn't some New Age Indian/Ethiopian/Chilean/Pakistani place that I'm going to hate."

Blair smiled, moving next to his partner, nudging him with a slender hip. Jim's arm automatically came around him and he smiled, snuggling closer. "Actually, the specialties are things that I'm sure you love."

"Oh, yeah?" Jim asked, looking down at the younger man fondly. "Like what?"

Blair led them into the crowd that was funneling to the arena. "Oh, I don't know, hot dogs, cheese fries, ice cold beer?"

Jim stopped, and the crowd surged around them. He turned Blair to face him. "The game? We're going to the game?"

Blair looked up at his partner, his feelings reflected in his gaze. "Would I let you miss the Jags/Trailblazers game?" Tickets suddenly appeared in his hand, fanned out and waving in the breeze.

"But, how the hell did you get tickets?" Jim asked, brow creased in puzzlement. "This game has been sold out since the beginning of the season."

"C'mon, man," Blair said, tugging at Jim's arm to get him moving. "Let's walk and talk or you won't get dinner before the game starts."

After a few moments of weaving through the crowd, Jim commanded "So, talk, Sandburg."

"OK, OK," came the reply. "Robert got me the tickets."

"Robert, meaning your cousin the bookie, Robert?" Jim asked suspiciously. "These aren't stolen or anything, are they?"

"Jeez, Jim, would I take a cop to a game using stolen tickets?"

"Only if you thought you could get away with it." Jim retorted.

Blair laughed, nudging Jim with his hip again. "You know me way too well. I hate to disappoint you, but they're Robert's own season tickets. He couldn't come tonight and offered them to me."

Blair took the tickets in question out of his pocket and handed one to Jim so the two men could enter the arena. Once inside, they quickly got in line at the concession stand and loaded up with hot dogs and beer and headed for their seats.

"These seats are courtside?!??" Jim said with excitement "Apparently crime does pay." As they located their seats and sat down, Jim turned to his lover. "You know, Sandburg, you sure can be good man to have around."

Blair beamed, then teased. "And a good man is hard to find."

Jim waited until Blair had a mouthful of beer before replying "And a hard man is good to find." He laughed loudly at Blair's exaggerated spit take.

"That is like, so lame, man," Blair said, once he regained his breath.

"But you love me anyway," Jim replied, catching his partner's gaze.

"I love you every way...Every which way but loose," Blair said, laughing as Jim groaned. It was going to be a long night, but Jim wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

Friday Night...

The loft was dark, lit only by the light from the TV. The image flickered, changing quickly, as the man on the couch used the remote to channel surf with disinterest. On the coffee table before him were the remains of his dinner: a pizza crust on a plate. He finally threw the remote down, leaving the TV tuned to the Discovery Channel. He laughed softly to himself. Somehow it made him feel closer to his absent lover.

Jim sat back, put his hands behind his head, and looked up at the ceiling, sighing deeply. This was his pre-Sandburg life. And he hated it. With a passion. What now felt like slow death was once his comfortable life. How long had he lived like this, preferring his own company? Too damn long.

When Sandburg first found him, Jim was in pain, willing to listen to anyone who could help. Even a dorky, little, long-haired guy with a mouth that never quit. As intriguing to the older man as he was irritating, Blair gradually ensconced himself in Jim's life. First his work, then his home, and then finally his heart.

The detective smiled fondly as he remembered that moment when he discovered Blair Sandburg meant everything to him. They were on a small plane, flying over the jungle, and Jim was shocked when he realized the younger man meant to jump. The stupid kid was willing to risk his life... for him.

It was only later, when they returned from Peru, that Jim knew that Blair really loved him. He was a detective, after all, and he put together all the signs. His heart warmed as he realized that he returned that love. Jim didn't do anything about it for several months, still afraid of his feelings and of loving a man. Unfortunately, it took a threat to Blair's life to get him to act on his those feelings.

Once they became lovers, it only enriched the commitment between the two men, giving it an aspect that transcended friendship and deepened it into love. Jim knew now that they were soul mates. And like true soul mates, one would not, could not live without the other. If anything happened to Blair, the older man knew that his own life would be over.

They talked about life insurance one day and Jim mentioned putting Blair on his policy. The younger man wondered if he should buy some life insurance as well. Upset at the thought of losing his mate, Jim made a thoughtless comment about eating a bullet if anything ever happened to Blair. Jim sighed. The argument that ensued from his inconsiderate remark went on for a week. Finally the two agreed to disagree. Blair did manage to draw a concession from Jim that he would never take his own life. Jim agreed, only because he knew whether it was by his own hand, or by some other force, he could never go on.

Jim sat up, rubbing his hands down his face. One evening without his lover and he was turning morose. Just then, he heard Blair's Volvo pull up in front of the loft. He smiled and followed the sounds of the younger man exiting the car and entering the building, talking under his breath all the way. His partner was rarely still, rarely quiet, but Jim wouldn't change a thing.

The loft door opened and Blair burst in, tossing his keys towards the basket. Jim grinned when, as usual, they missed. His jacket was flung towards the hooks and Blair moved quickly across the floor, stepping up behind the couch. He put his hands on the larger man's shoulders and leaned down to kiss the top of his head, then rested his head atop Jim's.

"Missed you," he sighed, rubbing his cheek against the soft hair. "Mmmmm, your hair is like bunny fur...baby bunny fur."

Jim chuckled, enjoying the sensation of being close to his lover after a separation. Even if it was just for an evening. "Just don't call me bunny in front of the guys, OK?"

Blair laughed, standing up straight and starting to massage tight shoulders. "Can I call you baby?" he teased. Blair looked around at the darkened loft and took in the flickering TV and the dried pizza crust. "I thought you were going out with the guys while I was at the lecture?"

"Nah," Jim replied, groaning softly as he leaned his head forward, allowing Blair to strengthen the massage. "I didn't feel like it."

"So you just sat here alone in the dark?" Blair asked.

"Actually I used the time to think," Jim replied softly.

"About what?"

"Us."

"What about us?"

"Why me, Chief?" Jim asked quietly "You're a beautiful, young, energetic man and I'm a middle-aged, balding, grouchy cop." Jim's words were almost a mumble. "Why would you settle for me?"

Blair stopped massaging, surprised at the serious tone. "Settle? Is that what you think I did?" He quickly moved around the end of the couch and climbed onto his lover's lap, facing him, grasping his shoulders. "You've been acting a little funny all week. Thinking way too much again, Ellison." the younger man teased, loving the slight blush that rose on Jim's cheeks.

Then Blair's expression turned serious, his gaze holding Jim's. "You're right. I had lots of choices. A whole world full of 'em." Jim's gaze dropped for a moment. "Look at me." Warm hands cupped his face, forcing Jim to meet his gaze again. "But I made my choice. I picked you."

Jim's eyes filled as he reached up and drew Blair down to him, taking his mouth in a tender kiss that quickly deepened into much more. After several minutes, Blair drew back, gasping, then rested his forehead on his lover's.

"If this is the greeting I get when I go out at night, I may start doing it more," Blair teased, then yelped as he was swung around, finding himself lying on the couch, one large Sentinel looming over him, his body pressed close. Blair undulated his hips, smiling at the growled response. He reached up and pulled his lover's head down to take up where they left off. "OK," he whispered, "maybe not."

* * *

Saturday Morning...

The pile of blankets shifted, a hand emerged, patting the sheet, searching.

"Jim?"

There was no response, and the hand disappeared as the covers were flung back. Blair sat up, hair sticking up straight as he rubbed his face, trying to wake up. Bleary blue eyes surveyed the empty room.

"Deja vu...again," Blair sighed quietly, then turned his head as he heard a noise. Rolling unto his stomach and moving the pillows out of his way, he peered over the edge, giving him a bird's eye view of the loft. He rested his head on his hands, smiling, as he saw Handyman Jim occupied with some project on the balcony. Wearing his ratty jeans and his Home Depot giveaway t-shirt, the man never looked more appetizing.

Curious, the anthropologist did what he was trained to do: observe. Jim was using the measuring tape on the side of the balcony. Then he turned and picked up the bonsai, moving it over to where he'd been measuring, obviously seeing where it fit best. Blair's heart warmed as he suddenly realized what Jim was doing. He was building something for the bonsai. Or rather, he was building something for Blair. Regardless of his own feelings about "the tree", Jim knew it's importance to his lover. And what the older man found difficult to express in words, he conveyed in his actions.

"Jim," Blair said, voice at a normal level. He smiled as Jim looked through the glass, then opened the doors, looking up at the face peering down at him.

"You're up early, Chief," he commented, smiling and wiping his hands on his jeans.

"I was looking for you," Blair said with a soft smile.

"Sorry about that," Jim replied. "I was hoping to be back by the time you woke up."

"Back from where?"

Jim looked down and mumbled, "Home Depot."

Blair gazed down fondly at his lover. "Can I come?" he asked brightly.

The older man looked up in surprise. "You want to? I thought you hated that place."

"But I love you," Blair replied and the two men shared a smile. "Just give me a chance to get some clothes on," he continued, disappearing from view.

"But I like you without clothes," Jim joked, a little touched by the fact Blair was willing to go to Home Depot with him, when he clearly hated the place.

The Sentinel heard the younger man's reply clearly, "Yeah, but what would your macho, home improvement friends think if I showed up naked?"

The reply was made under his breath, but with all the feeling in his heart. "They'll think I'm the luckiest bastard in the world. And they'd be right."

Blair appeared at the top of the stairs, and bounced down, smiling, hair still not quite tamed.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready," Jim replied, grabbing his keys, and a quick good morning kiss, before the two men went out the door together.

* * *

End Of Tool Belts and Trees by Refugees: Suze777@aol.com

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Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount.


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